


Renovations

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Gibbs comes back from Hawaii with a heavy heart and a gift for someone who makes it lighter. Pre-Slibbs (A possible extension to "The Arizona" s17e20)
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 51
Kudos: 166





	Renovations

**Author's Note:**

> I used to try and make all my connecting flights to Oklahoma through Chicago/O'Hare, just so I could get something from "Nuts on Clark". See's Candies is a real store that is in the San Diego airport and is pretty limited to the West Coast. I figured it would be something Jack missed from California, and I like the idea that he pays that much attention to her, and all aspects of her.

He had purposely taken the red eye out of Hawaii so he could sleep through at least half the 11 hour flight back to DC, but with the 2 hour layover in San Diego and the 6 hour time difference, it was all catching up to him, and 7pm felt like midnight as he trudged through the Arrivals gate. He wondered how many times she had called his name before he heard her.

“Hey,” she said, all smiles and warmth and he just wanted to collapse into her. Instead, he frowned and it was reflected in her own expression. “I told you I’d come pick you up, remember? When I dropped you off?”

It all had been a jumble since he had collected Joe’s ashes, everything becoming a blur of jagged projector slides, of emotional bottles being uncapped. “I’m just tired, Jack.”

She took his excuse without question, probably suspecting there was at least an element of truth to it when she was able to sling his duffel over her shoulder without his protest. Tapping the tightly packed bag with affection, she said, “The military never leaves you.”

Considering the events of the last week, he would’ve bitten off a retort had anyone else said it, but he knew that she, more than anyone, would know what it was like. “Take me home, LT.”

She gave his arm a quick squeeze.

…..

Later, he would appreciate how well she could drive the old truck, but at that moment, he was only glad she got them home without wasting any time. The duffel had been jammed between his knees which prevented her from carrying it a second time, a deflection she silently acknowledged with a stern look before grabbing his suit bag. He watched her walk into his house like she owned it and he felt just a little bit lighter for the first time in days. When the smell of something delicious hit him, he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. 

“I’ll take this to the dry cleaner tomorrow,” she told him, hanging up the garment bag on a nearby hook. 

He felt her reach for the duffel and he said, “Leave it. Got something to give you.” He opened his eyes expecting to see hers light up, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“What in the world could you have gotten for me?” Her eyes narrowed at the possibilities. “You didn’t get me a flower necklace just so you could tell me I got lei’d, did you?”

The chuckle escaped him uncontested. “No, but now I’m wishin’ I had.”

“Hmmm. Well, I got something for you, too, Cowboy. Or, I made something for you. Same thing.” She began walking to the kitchen. “Figured you might be hungry?”

It wasn’t until she mentioned food that he realized he was starving. “Yeah.”

“Good. Come and sit down. Coffee’s on and dinner’s almost ready. I hope you don’t mind, I kind of took over your kitchen.”

Dropping into the chair, he closed his eyes again. “You can come over and cook dinner every night, Jack.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice. “Your kitchen isn’t big enough.”

“Draw me up some sketches.”

“Ooh, is the carpenter coming up from his basement?”

“Somethin’ like that.” 

She didn’t reply and he was glad, glad to find her silence didn’t feel like a prelude to questions, because he was certain he didn’t want to get into why he was turning away from his boat and bourbon more and more lately. Instead, it felt patient and settled him with its quiet comfort. The lasagna only made it better.

“Wow,” he said, unable to hide his surprise when she set down the plates. “Hell, Jack, I’ll start drawin’ up sketches myself.”

Her grin lit up the room. Two coffee cups followed the plates and before she sat, she asked, “Anything else?”

“Nope.” He gestured to her chair and waited for her to sit before he picked up his fork. They sat in companionable silence, enjoying the food and the company. Though it was what he needed, it wasn’t what he had expected. “You haven’t asked me how the trip was.”

“No, I haven’t,” she agreed. Faced with his immutable patience, she shrugged. “I figured anything I asked you would feel… trite. It couldn’t have been an easy trip; you don’t need to relive it to give me what’s a pretty obvious answer.” She took a drink. “Unless you want to tell me, Gibbs. You know I’d never say ‘no’.”

If there was one thing he knew about her, it was her unwavering support. In the face of everything, she had been right there from the very first day she had met him. It made him think of his conversation with McGee, about his concern that his girls might not have recognized him when he came back from Kuwait, that the best of him was gone. He looked across the table at the woman who didn’t know him then but knew him now and still found the good in him.

“Hey,” she said, the concern threading through her voice. Reaching out, she asked, “You okay?”

His gaze fell on their hands, hers looking so much smaller on top of his, but somehow stronger. “I thought you weren’t going to ask questions with obvious answers?” The smile that traced over his mouth took the edge off his words. 

“Right, right,” she said. “What was I thinking?” Her own smile softened the question. 

Turning his hand under hers, he offered a lingering caress with his thumb, then stood. “Forgot to give you that thing.”

She pulled her hand back immediately and clapped. “Presents! Go!” 

His feigned scowl fooled no one if the way she waved him away was any indication. The duffel practically exhaled when he unzipped the tightly packed bag, and he was glad the gift was right on top. Though he tried not to put too much stock in the fact he had gone out of his way to get it for her, his own private satisfaction found him shielding it from her already inquisitive eyes. That he was responsible for the happiness that beamed from her smile brought a long-forgotten feeling in his chest. 

“Gimme!” She held out her hands and closed her eyes.

The joy was infectious and he could only shake his head and smile. “That’s awfully trusting of ya, Sloane.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she agreed, eyes still closed.

“Careful,” he warned, “it’s pretty big.” Her lips pressed together in a vain attempt to hold back the giggle, and he replayed the words in his head. “Really, Jack?” 

He waited until she wiggled her fingers before setting it in her hands. The feel of the box wasn’t going to help her identify it, so she opened her eyes. It was a box of candy and a coffee mug.

“You went to See’s Candies!” she practically squealed, and she slapped his arm at his faux wince. “Wait. You went to See’s Candies and bought my favourite candy.”

“Figured you might wanna leave the cup here so you’ll stop usin’ all of mine.”

There was a lot to dissect in his gesture and his words and he could see her processing both. He volunteered information on the former.

“You went home last year for your friend’s wedding. You and Bishop couldn’t stop talking about the damn candy.”

He was downplaying his part and they both knew it.

“First, I went back to San Diego for a friend’s wedding, then I came back home.” The stress in the correction was intentional. “Second, that was last year! One time! I can’t believe you remember.” She shook her head and retracted her statement. “No. I _can_ believe you’d remember.” Tilting the box in her hand, she softly said, “Thank you.” Then, dealing with the part about leaving her mug, she asked, “Is there enough room in the cupboard?”

The question felt like something deeper, and he didn’t doubt it was exactly what she intended. “I’ll make a note in the sketches.”

“Then I guess I’ll leave it here.” She held his gaze and accepted all it meant. Then she stood and began clearing the table.

“Lemme help.”

In the small kitchen, she said, “Why don’t you dump out your bag and have a shower while I do these dishes?”

“Jack.”

She waved away his protest. “There’s hardly anything here. Go.”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.” When he still lingered in the doorway, she said, “I promise.”

…..

The day’s light had long left, leaving the single table lamp to bring a yellow glow to the room. He came down the stairs in sweats and a hoodie and felt human again. She sat on the sectional reading the paper, her legs tucked up under her, a coffee perched on her knee. In her new mug. 

“Are those my glasses?” he asked, walking around the coffee table to sit diagonal to her.

“Yep.” She looked up over the lens. “You look better. How are you feeling? In a general ‘friend asking’ sense, not in that ‘therapist way you hate’ sense.”

He rested his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. “Good. Better with the shower and the food. And the company.”

“Good.” He was quiet for a long time. Long enough for her to quietly set down her mug and stand.

“Where ya goin’?”

Frozen in a half sitting, half standing pose, she turned to look at him. His eyes were still closed. “I know you’re tired. Thought maybe I’d go home and let you get some sleep.”

It was said more as a question that a statement, and he blindly reached out. “Stay.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Let me just get more coffee.”

“Bring those candies over here while you’re at it.”

…..

“These are pretty good,” he admitted, tearing open another wrapper. 

“Right? I’ll leave the rest here with my mug.” She looked at the battlefield littered with packaging. “If we have any left by the time I leave.”

The TV flickered in his eyes. “You could always stay. The night, I mean.” He wondered if he was more tired than he thought. “I’ll sleep down here.”

“No, you won’t,” she scoffed. “You have a perfectly good bed upstairs. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“Jack.” How could he explain that he preferred her sleeping in his bed, that the smell of her lingering in his sheets gave him the best nights sleep after she was gone? “No sheets on the bed.”

“Again?”

He shrugged but she didn’t protest too much and he wondered if he wasn’t the only one who liked her sleeping in his bed. Before either one of them gave it too much thought, he said, “I got a blanket and pillow down here already.”

“Yeah, I noticed. And you’ve got the same in the basement. Which means you’re not sleeping upstairs.” When he didn’t reply, she sighed. “You mind if I have a shower?”

“You know where everything is.”

“Okay.” Glancing at the TV she said, “I’ll be back for the fourth quarter. And don’t eat all the candy!”

…..

Except when she came down, he was already asleep, albeit in a half-sitting position that looked uncomfortable as hell. Quietly, she padded her way to the couch and gently lowered him to the pillow he had grabbed from under the coffee table. He stirred ever so slightly and she soothed him with a soft shush, then carefully lifted his legs and stretched them out. She made sure the ever-present blanket covered him from shoulder to toes, and deciding between the TV and the lamp, turned off the latter, leaving an indirect glow in the room in case he woke up. Daringly, she pressed a kiss against his forehead before returning upstairs.

…..

She normally got some of her best sleep in his bed, surrounded by his sheets and his blanket and his smell. It was all warm and safe and for a while, she could fool herself into believing he had just gotten up to go to the bathroom, or had woken up before she did. But there was something in his eyes that had planted a sadness in her heart and after tossing and turning for an hour, she knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she trudged down the stairs, the ends trailing behind her. She got halfway down when she realized he was sitting upright, the TV’s glow flickering off his face.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He turned his head and arched an eyebrow. “Is that my shirt?”

She looked down at the USMC tee, even though she already knew the answer. “Yes.”

His eyes went lower even as his eyebrow went higher. “Are those my boxers?”

“Well, I didn’t want to come down in _my_ underwear,” she said, as if it was the most logical reason in the world. “You’re eating my candy.”

He pushed it from one cheek to the other. “Yep.”

“Hmph.” 

Before she could sit at the end of the couch, he pulled back the blanket to make room beside him. His eyes were on the TV, the gesture cloaked in a nonchalantness neither of them felt. Without a hesitation that might make her lose her nerve, she slipped in beside him and moulded into his side when his arm came around her shoulders. When she slid her hand across his waist and tucked in, he seemed to relax -really relax- for the first time that night. Perhaps in ages.

Not daring to turn her head, knowing her lips would graze his jaw, she whispered, “Is this movie in black and white or is it just your TV?”

The joke broke the tension and he turned to do what she dared not, brushing his lips across her cheek, his nose nuzzling into her hair. “Don’t make me rip up the sketches, Sloane.”

She laughed against him and the sadness she had was banished under his smile.

…..

-end


End file.
